


Wild is the Wind

by Thehairshirt



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehairshirt/pseuds/Thehairshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ASOIAF Kink meme, prompt:</p><p>They feel they don't really belong with the Starks, so they run away from Winterfell. Of course they get caught and brought back rather quickly - after just a day or so (they can totally and hilariously blame each other for getting caught), but it was totally worth it as they had a great (smutty too) adventure. </p><p>It can be both canon or modern AU, but I'd like it if it was sweet. </p><p>+ if despite the bonding and sweet (smutty) feelings they have for each other they still bicker all the time</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neliore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neliore/gifts).



Let’s just leave.”

Theon’s words repeated through Jon’s mind.

Jon’s face was hot and flushed, but the cool, late afternoon winds were clinging to his flesh, despite the thick layers he wore of leather and furs, and he began to shiver. He kicked his heels into the flank of his mare, urging her to keep a quick pace, for they needed to be as far from Winterfell as possible by nightfall. 

 

The seed of the idea had been planted in Theon’s mind for a long time. At Winterfell, he was essentially a prisoner of the Starks, although truth be told Eddard would always see to it that Theon was treated with respect and allowed a certain level of freedom once he had proved that he was capable of trust. It was certainly not a bad life he lead, but it was the life of a hostage nonetheless. Over many moons Theon grew more and more restless, and longed to steal away into the night, never to return, but did not have the gall until that very morning.

Eddard had suggested Theon accompany the Stark boys, as well as his bastard son, for a hunt to fetch some game to eat and to give young Bran some practice stalking deer. Robb and Bran galloped their horses and laughed, while Theon took the opportunity to tell Jon of his plan to leave Winterfell. Jon annoyed Theon, as he was often surly or quick to anger if provoked, but he was also the only person in Winterfell who would possibly empathise with Theon’s predicament. Besides, he knew Jon was too honourable to spread word of any escape plans, so long as Theon could get him to swear a vow of silence on the subject.  
“I swear.” Jon said, his breath misting in the bitter air “I will tell no one.”

Theon smiled, leaning down slightly to pat the muscular neck of his chestnut mount.

“Let’s just leave.” Theon said “Today.”

Jon furrowed his brow in the way that often made common girls swoon, but irritated Theon. “Leave?” Jon repeated, as though he had not heard the word correctly. “As in…?”

“As in we leave Winterfell, there’s nothing for us here, you know that Jon. We are more alike than it may seem at first. You know neither of us is, or ever will be, a Stark.”

Jon stared down at his hands, clad in leather riding gloves, still gripping his horses’ reigns tightly, and merely nodded.

“Look, it could be hard, but if we go together we could make something of ourselves. If all else fails, you can still take the black, and I will return to my true home in Pyke.”

Jon looked up, his pale eyes studying Theon’s face for a moment. 

“Ok. Let’s do it.” 

 

The pair returned from the hunt, laughing as they raced back to the castle gates with Bran and Robb, saddlebags stocked with fresh rabbit and even a young stag deer from the hunt. They each spent part of the day independently gathering supplies from the kitchens and the armoury and met in the stables. Jon did not say goodbye to any of his siblings, nor his Lord father or Lady Stark. It pained him to leave without his goodbye, but in his heart he felt as though perhaps they would be happier without him. Lady Catelyn certainly would be. Theon’s confident words were enough to convince the guards that they were merely leaving to fetch more game from the woods, and as soon as they were out of sight of the looming stone walls, the pair kicked their steeds to a gallop. Jon’s direwolf Ghost lumbered behind them, effortlessly keeping pace with their horses.

They had set off later in the day than was most likely wise, and in no particular direction.

Jon let his mare ease down to a trot, and Theon sidled up beside him.  
“Well, bastard, it’s us together on the road now.” He grinned, taking more than a little pleasure in the glowering he received for his remark. 

“I should push you from your horse, Greyjoy.” Jon spat, looking away as though the mere sight of Theon would drive him to do so.

“Come on now Jon, you’re a bastard.” Theon chuckled, “Out here, in this moment though, it doesn’t truly matter. Nor does it matter than I am a prince.”  
Jon kept his anger smothered in silence, and the pair rode along together, Theon smiling to himself, and Jon scowling at the world. Occasionally Theon would glance over his shoulder, to see if he could see any men of Winterfell in pursuit, but there were none, and the castle itself had long since shrunk into the distance and disappeared over the horizon. 

Jon estimated they had set off at noon, and it was almost dusk judging by the fingers of pink clouds tracing along the sky. His stomach quaked with worry, knowing they were truly not far from Winterfell, but they would have to make camp soon.  
“Keep an eye out for a good spot to make camp.” Theon said, “I’m sore from riding all day, and could use some supper. What did you take?”  
Jon was unsure if the Greyjoy boy was starting conversation yet again because he wanted to extend an olive branch, to tease Jon further or, perhaps, he was simply bored enough that he would talk to Jon without the japes, just so he could converse at all. After a long pause, Jon spoke “Meat, cheese and bread from the larder, also a couple of apples. Some wine too. Enough for the both of us for the next few days at least.”  
“There.” Theon said, as though Jon had not spoken, one hand pointing to their right. “The other side of that hill should do, let’s make camp. We shan’t be visible from the Kings Road.”

By the time night began to fall and the stars slowly crept across the sky, the pair had a fire crackling between them. They had found a small overhang that protected them from the wind and provided the glow of their fire would not be seen from the road. They shared a meal mostly in silence, listening to the sound of the wind and the heavy, yet gentle snorts and hoofsteps of their horses. Ghost had vanished while they set camp, presumably to hunt, but Jon did not worry for him. 

“What are we going to do Theon?” Asked Jon. His voice had a touch of pain to it, although Theon was unsure as to whether it was because Jon regretted leaving, or regretted leaving with him. Theon walked around the fire and sat next to Jon, but Jon’s eyes did not stray from the dancing flames.  
“We will have an adventure, and do as we please.” Theon remarked, throwing an arm over Jon’s shoulder. The arm was shrugged off, but Jon still stared into the flames. “First I plan on getting you to share a bed with a lovely wench, I think it would certainly raise your morale. Works like a charm for me.”  
“Stop it.” Jon said, eyes finally lifting up from the flames to meet Theon’s. “You know why I can’t… Do that. You wouldn’t ever understand though, what it’s like to be a bastard.”

Theon wanted to find what he could to joke about from what Jon said, but he realised that, perhaps for the first time ever, he felt bad for making fun of Jon.  
“Perhaps not, Snow, but I know what it’s like feel alone, as you do.” Theon stared down at his hands as he pulled his leather gloves off, removing them purely for the act of doing something. “I know you’re lonely. I’m lonely too. Sharing my bed with a whore or one of the castles serving girls helps, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy.” 

He looked from his hands to Jon’s eyes, which were welling up with tears. Jon would not let them fall, not in front of Theon.  
“Here.” 

Theon offered Jon the wineskin he had stowed beneath his thick cloak. Jon snatched it away, and took three gulps before passing it back. He sniffed, and poked at the logs in the fire with a stick. 

The wind whistled around their encampment, suddenly picking up it’s pace. Previously their little alcove with fire felt protected, but the wind blew through them now and chilled them to the bone. The pair shivered, rubbing their arms to keep warm and huddling close together to the fire. 

“Looks like a light snow is coming.” Whispered Jon, his lips chapped from their day’s ride through high winds. “I know what we can do.”

He ran to his horse, wrapping himself up in his cloak, head ducked to try and avoid the wind. The beast stamped uneasily, obviously disturbed by the weather, but still allowed Jon to remove its saddle and retrieve the tent cloth from within. It was not a full-sized tent, used for war, but rather a small emergency tarp used for evading extreme weather when on the road. It took Theon and Jon a lot of cursing, but together they created a small lean-to against the mossy rock of the hill. Their fire was stifled by snow in the process, and they shivered, huddling together for warmth, cloaks wrapped around tightly. Ghost entered their tent, whined as he yawned and exposed his gleaming white teeth, and then curled up at their feet. 

Theon tried to wrap his own cloak partially around Jon, who was shivering, his hair glistening like oil from the melted snow. 

“What are you -?” Jon asked, withdrawing slightly in surprise.

“If we get under the cloaks together, we will be warmer.” Greyjoy said, matter-of-fact “Unless you enjoy freezing your arse off I suggest you give it a try.”  
“I think I need sleep.” Jon remarked, yawning and stretching his legs, sore and stiff after the day’s riding. The pair shuffled awkwardly until they were laying together, under both of their cloaks but still wearing their riding leathers, back to back and closer than they had ever been before.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind continued to howl, and Jon could not sleep. Theon was snoring beside him, and his body ached for rest, but his mind was too active to let that happen. The snow had stopped falling, but it had begun to rain, and small rivers were threading themselves along the wall of the lean-to. Jon cursed inwardly, knowing he could be in a soft bed with a fire crackling and be dry. He was miserable, and yet Theon was enjoying sleep, seemingly without a care in the world. Jon brought his fist down on what he presumed was Theon’s shoulder, curled slightly and draped with a cloak. 

“What?” Theon groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, reaching for the dagger that lay at his feet. It was a crude dagger, one purloined from the armoury and was little more effective a weapon as a bread knife, but even a bread knife could fend off an attack if necessary. 

“You were snoring.” Jon said, rolling back over to attempt sleep again “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Fuck you!” Theon snarled, dropping the dagger and pushing Jon’s shoulder roughly to the ground kicking up a small plume of dust, so that he was forced to lie on his back and look up at him.

“You’re obnoxious.” Jon stated, and attempted to roll over again, but Theon’s hand held him fast. Theon threw a leg over him, and was kneeling above him, now both hands pinning his shoulders. He was stronger than Jon had previously imagined, judging on Theon’s willowy frame

“Think I’m obnoxious do you, bastard? At least I don’t hit people while they’re sleeping for no good reason.”

Jon’s mouth twisted into a scowl, and he reached up with both hands, clutching at Theon’s collar. He did not know whether he wanted to scream, to cry, to hit the boy with the smiling eyes, or…

Theon slapped his cheek. Jon cried out in surpise as the slap was followed by a rough kiss. His cheeks burned red, as he tightened his grip on Theon’s leathers, pulling him closer. Jon swallowed his pride and pulled away enough to place another kiss, this time softer, his grip loosening slightly. His heart pounded and breath panted as they lay, forehead to forehead, Theon straddling him as they listened to the sounds of the winds swallowing the countryside around them.   
Theon laughed, his breath warm on Jon’s face, and then pulled himself in for another kiss. This time, his lips were slightly parted, and it was softer, less aggressive. Theon enjoyed the kiss more than he wanted to let on, as Jon’s lips were full and sweet. He continued to pin down Jon’s shoulder with one hand, but let the other one slowly explore Jon’s throat, then run down to his chest to unlace his leathers. 

His fingertips were cold on Jon’s skin, and he flinched slightly at the touch. In their kiss, he could feel Theon smiling. His body felt on fire, both in his embarrassment and in want. He was hard, and was ashamed that Theon had this power over him.

“See?” Theon whispered, as he placed soft kisses on Jon’s cheek, peppered with stubble, his slender hand reaching down to rub his cock through his trousers. “Even a miserable bastard like you can still enjoy this kind of pleasure. You know I’m right Jon Snow, and I have you now.”

Jon hated Theon’s cocky tone, and the control he had over him. Without warning Jon grasped Theon’s shoulder hard again, and rolled himself so now he was on top. 

“Fine, I am enjoying this, but you can’t stand that you are enjoying it even more.” Jon smirked, noting that Theon was hard as well. He rocked his hips back and fourth, and elicited a moan from Theon, which he silenced quickly with a hand to his throat and a savage kiss. Theon tore at his own clothes feverishly, and his flesh turned to goosepimples as soon as it hit the night air. He shuddered in delight and grinned as Jon raked his nails down his lean chest and stomach. It was easy to get the bastard to do what he wanted, Theon supposed, he just needed to tease him a little more. 

Jon pushed his own trousers down just enough to expose himself, as Theon had, as the night was unbearably cold and body heat was not enough. He gasped as Theon’s slender hand wrapped around his cock, wet with spittle, and slowly stroked. Jon emulated his movements, grasping Theon in his hand, stroking in time. Jon felt incredibly aware that he had never allowed himself to be touched in this way, and his heart ached at the thought. 

“Here.” Theon said, stopping momentarily to position Jon next to him. Jon complied, allowing Theon’s strong hands to guide him. They kissed again, lying face to face, hips held together and slowly rocking. Theon wanted to show Jon that hands weren’t necessary. He smirked playfully and ran a hand briefly though Jon’s thick mop of hair with a hint of affection, which seemed almost uncharacteristic. Theon then descended, kissing any small amounts of pale, quivering flesh that were exposed to the night, until he took Jon’s cock in his mouth.

Jon gasped in surprise and pleasure, instinctively clutching Theon’s dark mane and bucking his hips upward. Theon steadied them with a hand. He kissed the tip gently, and then shot a glance upward at Jon, grinning wolfishly. They maintained eye contact as Theon took the tip of his member into his mouth, slowly working his lips up and down the shaft. Jon was the first to break away from their mutual gaze, rolling his head back and sighing.

“Oh gods, that is good. Let me –“

He attempted to shift his body around awkwardly, but Theon wouldn’t allow it. 

“Just watch, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Jon laughed through a heavy sigh, and grasped a fistful of black hair, urging Theon to keep going. “Let me… I want to do it for you too.”

“You can just fuck me instead.” Theon remarked nonchalantly, tracing his fingers firmly down the length of Jon’s cock as he kissed his thigh. “I’m sure you’ll need me to teach you how to do it, but I think I would be a good person to learn from.”

Jon pulled at his hair, encouraging their lips to meet again, as he pulled Theon’s trousers down further. Jon roughly bit at Theon’s neck, and Theon cried out in surprise as he felt the tip of Jon’s cock already pushing into him, Jon’s nails gripping hard on the flesh of his back. It hurt as Jon pushed inside, but Theon stifled his cry of pain and wrapped his arms around Jon’s broad shoulders, having never felt more turned on in his life. He grit his teeth as Jon took him roughly in both hands. 

“See, I know how to do it.” Jon smirked, before kissing Theon deeply. Theon nipped at Jon’s throat, letting out a sound, but Jon could not distinguish whether it was a groan of pain or desire. Theon’s fingers raked pink lines across his back, as he began to slowly roll his hips. He did not want to hurt Theon more, but also enjoyed the sense of power he felt, a feeling he had never experienced before. He panted, kissing Theon’s clean-shaven cheek, taking in the scents of sweat, leather and the rain. 

“Fuck me. Hard.” Theon moaned in his ear, nibbling on his ear lobe. Theon’s hand was between them, stroking himself in time to Jon’s thrusts. He laughed to himself as Jon obeyed. It was really all too easy to get the man to do what he wanted. 

Jon felt ashamed at how close he was to finishing already, but Theon was tighter than anything he had felt before. In a few quick thrusts he let himself lose control, and his hands gripped Theon’s hips hard enough to bruise as he climaxed. He moaned his lovers name as the last few throbs of his orgasm sent shivers down his spine, and a wave of exhaustion hit him hard. 

Theon reached up to Jon’s face, tilting his jaw slightly with a finger so that their eyes met, green to grey. They kissed as Jon withdrew from Theon, his seed spilling onto the crude blankets they lay upon. They then embraced for what seemed like hours, but was most likely mere minutes. It would have perhaps been romantic if it weren’t so damned awkward, Theon supposed. He gently pushed Jon away from his chest, and Jon led a trail of kisses down his smooth torso, and hungrily licked the bead of moisture that lay at the tip of his cock. It throbbed and twitched as Jon shyly licked and kissed the head, his hand gently gripping the base of the shaft. 

“You sure you haven’t-?” Theon began to ask, but the rest of his joke was lost into a gasp as Jon took him completely into his mouth. ‘Full lips and eager to please.’ Theon noted to himself. He watched in glee as Jon’s dark curls bobbed up and down.

“Oh gods, Im so close…” murmured Theon, grasping a handful of Jon’s dark hair, urging him to take more of his length in. 

He arched his hips upward as he reached orgasm, and Jon swallowed hard as he felt Theon’s seed spent into his throat. Jon pulled away, wiping his lips on his sleeve.

“Gods be damned, you’re good at that.” Theon panted. They kissed again, Theon not particularly minding that he could taste himself on Jon’s tongue.   
Jon retrieved their cloaks, which had been thrown clear of them in the struggle earlier, and the pair lay together, this time Jon’s back pressed against the flat of Theon’s chest. Jon noted that Ghost seemed undisturbed by the night’s events, and thought of their horses, hoping that they had not fled in the storm. Jon allowed himself to be shielded in Theon’s arms, and he quickly drifted into sleep to the sounds of thunder rolling and heavy breathing


	3. Chapter 3

Jon sat up suddenly as he awoke.   
“Ghost?”

Even within a dream, he had heard the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping underfoot. There was no answer, but Ghost had left while the pair was sleeping. Jon reached over Theon’s prone form and took the dagger in hand. He gently shook Theon with splayed fingers, minding his blade. He pried up one corner of the tarp fabric to peek out into the world, and a crack of stormy grey light filled his vision. Nothing but the grey of the storm and sodden grass. Jon’s heart pounded in his throat, for he knew that someone must be out there. Theon murmured gently as he awoke, but saw Jon’s readiness and hand clutching the dagger, and slowly reached over to grasp at the hilt of the basic sword that lay next to his rucksack. The pair sat, clothes mussed and damp from the sex and the downpour that had calmed to a steady drizzle, clutching their weapons, backs pressed against the rock wall behind them. 

The tarp suddenly flew up and away, as though a great gust of wind had finally thrown its posts out of the ground and carried it aloft, but it was not a gust of wind, merely a young man.

“Robb?” 

He stood over them, sword pointed downward, as though ready to pierce their throats, but he cracked a smile and sheathed his blade at the sight of them. Even soaked through from the storm, Robb looked every part the future Lord of Winterfell in that moment seemingly unaffected by the way the wind swept his auburn curls to one side or the rain in his eyes. Jon and Theon looked like miserable wet dogs by comparison. Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, loped slowly up next to him for a scratch behind the ears with a black-gloved hand. 

“Thank the gods you two are safe – father was worried sick.” Robb said, as though he were addressing his own sons. 

“Are you alone?” asked Theon, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. 

“No.” Robb said, rather sternly “Father sent me and a few of his men out to scour the countryside for you both. Gather up your things.”

“How did you find us?” Jon asked, his face looking pallid and miserable.

“Grey Wind scented you out.” Robb stated, as though it were painfully obvious.

Jon glanced to the left of Robb, and moaned in distain when he realised that one of their horses – the mare Jon rode out of Winterfell upon – had loosened its reigns from where Jon had tied them, possibly panicked during the storm. Theon’s chestnut mount remained, although it looked every bit as miserable as Jon felt, its coat soaked with rain. 

“My horse-”

Robb laughed loud enough to silence Jon. “I didn’t think you two would have suddenly grown close enough to share a mount, unless you were secretly eloping?” Jon’s heart leapt into his throat again, feeling as though Robb knew exactly what had happened the night before. “In any case, I fear the poor creature must be long gone, so you two will share the chestnut on the way home. Now, make haste, if we leave now we can get home by nightfall.” 

Home. Jon delighted in the thought of sitting in front of a warm hearth, furs piled over him, in his own bed, but his heart sank thinking of Ned’s stern face, and the punishment that may follow. 

Reluctantly, Jon rose to his feet and Theon followed him, eyes still heavy from sleep. Robb helped saddle up Theon’s horse, and soon the pair had packed up their meagre camp and was soon ready for the road home. Several men, bearing the direwolf sigil of the house Stark, approached on horses steaming from a gallop in the rain. 

“Ready to depart, M’lord?” One asked Robb, as though Jon and Theon were not even there. He had a face that was familiar to Jon, although he did not know the man’s name. Rob nodded, and turned away smirking as Theon mounted the horse, sitting behind Jon, drawing up his hood to shield his sour face from the rain. Robb was often privy to the constant bickering and teasing that went between Jon and Theon, and he found it rather tedious. Seeing Jon, face twisted into a sullen pout, with Theon behind him, arms wrapped around him for stability was something that brought Robb much delight indeed. 

Ghost and Greywind seemingly floated at a distance to the men, as though they were spectral beings not creatures of the flesh. The group had departed, kicking their horses to a gallop, but soon the fatigue of the rain and the weight of two men upon the chestnut were too great, and the troupe allowed the horses to go at a more modest pace. 

Robb rode ahead of Jon and Theon, proudly leading the way. Jon felt Theon’s fist crashing into his ribs, with such force he was nearly winded. He brought his own elbow backwards into Theon’s stomach in retaliation. 

“Fuck you.” Hissed Theon into Jon’s ear. 

“You’re the one who hit me first.” Said Jon, matter-of-fact. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I was the one fucking you just last night.”

Robb turned back, hearing some peculiar noises, to see Theon and Jon hitting one another. He laughed again, calling out to them, but neither man responded to his voice. Finally the chestnut had enough of its passengers, and with a deft flick of its hindquarters threw Theon clear of it’s back. Jon clutched to the horses mane, and held fast where he sat. The horse flared its nostrils, but seemed satisfied to be rid of one of its unruly riders. Theon cursed loudly, now covered in mud. One of the escorts dismounted and helped Theon to his feet, and offered Theon to share the ride with him. Theon was normally a man too proud to do such a thing as share a mount, let alone with a man who was probably low-born. However, the rain, wind, bruises from Jon and the fall into the mud were enough for Theon to suck up his pride and graciously accept. 

It was past dusk as the men and their sodden horses approached the gates of Winterfell, and Jon was happy to be off his mount and stretching his legs once more. Robb escorted Jon and Theon straight to Eddard’s chambers, and the pair stood together, coats dripping, heads hung in unison. 

“You both have disappointed me greatly.” Said Eddard, watching the pair thoughtfully. “Not only did you make me fear something bad had happened, you both put many people at great risk. Theon, I allow you to roam as you please, but now you have broken my trust. Perhaps I had too much faith in you. As of right now I’m yet to determine what to do about your little adventure, so you are dismissed – but only to your chambers. I shall see you on the morrow, and we will discuss a punishment that fits. Go.” 

Theon nodded, wordlessly, and slunk out of the room like a dejected dog. Jon turned to follow, but was halted at once by his father.

“Stay, Jon.” He said “I’m even more disappointed in you than in Theon.”

“I know.” Jon said, tears beginning to well in his grey eyes. He hoped his father, if he chanced to notice them, considered them mere droplets of water from his soaked hair. 

“Let us talk about it tomorrow.” Ned said, patting Jon’s shoulder “Get some sleep.”

Jon nodded his head slightly, and then exited the room with haste. He immediately made way for his bedchamber, eyes glued to the floor as he tried not to engage with any of those he passed in the halls. His body ached from the damp, and although a warm bath would be most welcome, he was so exhausted he was happy just to retire to bed at once. Ignoring the hails of one of the serving girls offering him supper, Jon slipped into his room and closed the door, slumping against it with relief. Forehead pressed against the door, Jon began to unlace his leathers. He turned to his bed as he pulled the clothing free from his body, and nearly leapt out of his skin when he realised he was not alone.

Theon sat on the bed, perched like a bird. He was wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt, the kind he would wear under something thicker like leather or fur for warmth. His eyes smiled at Jon, but his mouth said nothing. 

Jon continued to undress, and left his clothes near the hearth to dry. He stepped naked into Theon’s arms, feeling himself growing hard with lust already, and Theon grabbed him with a ferocity that would surely leave marks. 

“Fuck me again, Snow.” He commanded, biting down hard on Jon’s neck, next to a purple mark he left upon him the previous night, to claim Jon as his own. “It was your fault we got fucked over by the gods and caught, after all. It is the least you can do.”

Jon knew he was not responsible for them being found out, but he decided he would allow Theon to think, at least in this moment, that he would take the responsibility on himself alone. He grinned and pushed Theon to the bed, kneeling over him as Theon chuckled and brushed wisps of black hair from his brow. They did not have the luxuries of warmth and candlelight, or nakedness last time, so Jon decided he would savour every moment as though it were his last.


End file.
